


Masters of War

by TheAzureFox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 2nd person point of view, Body Horror, F/F, F/M, Hanging, I'm sorry in advance for how long this is, M/M, Mutilation, and long, mentions of unsavory topics, morally gray characters, story is told from Byleth's perspective, this story is pretty dark ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 02:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19938607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureFox/pseuds/TheAzureFox
Summary: “Make a choice,” says the witch of time.“But what choice is there left to make?” You ask.She looks at you, smiling that sinister smile of hers as she answers:“Your own.”





	Masters of War

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry in advance for not catching up on things lol but this monster of a fanfic has taken me like a whole week to write ever since I got the idea for it and I sincerely hate myself for taking this long to finish it. I know I have things to reply to but for now *flops over* I'm exhausted and burnt out and need to go back to bed fdhjdfhj
> 
> Also, some things to note before you begin this!
> 
> 1\. This story is told from second person point of view. I normally don't write in this point of view because I prefer third person narratives but I was heavily inspired by BelowTheWinds Reader/Canon Character fanfics using this point of view (please check out their fanfics, they're good!). 
> 
> 2\. This is from Byleth's perspective. However, whether this is female Byleth telling the story or male Byleth is up to you. I left Byleth's perspective purposely vague so you can choose the gender of Byleth as you like. 
> 
> 3\. It's like 5 am and I've been up since 1 am to try and finish this so, uh, expect some typos in tense and errors in this piece. I'll come back to tidy things up but for now I'm exhausted and I just want this out of my Google docs file.
> 
> 4\. This contains literally no spoilers so for those who are out there like me avoiding spoilers: have fun with this because there's no chance you'll get spoiled on literally anything lmao.

* * *

It starts with those strange dreams.

Oh yes, it always starts with those strange, lucid dreams that haunt you like nothing else.

You watch a battle, one that involves two massive armies, mud, death, and bloodshed. You witness time and time again a green-haired lady beating a gray-skinned man to death. You hear her angry voice turn to pain, hear her promise her mother relief in the afterlife, before you blink and you awaken to a world that isn’t full of mysteries and intrigue.

* * *

At this point in time, you are travelling with your father. Jeralt, captain of a band of mercenaries and the man who has raised you since you were a child, leads you through a village. It’s an ordinary village, one that has children scampering along the streets and citizens nodding their heads to you. Respect gleams in the eyes of those who look at you. You charm them with a smile, polite and kind, and they hurry along with their lives with stars in their eyes.

You are no celebrity, but you are treated as such. Mercenaries are rare in these parts but, according to your father, they are also a boon. A village such as this, which lacks in military force and provides in goods, is defenseless without them. The very settlement’s livelihood depends on the goodwill of sellswords so, naturally, they are inclined to treat you - a mere _teenager_ \- like something of a savior.

Still, you humor their awed faces with a nod and a wave, sticking close to your father so as to avoid the attention of those seeking to talk to you. You are not a social person, no, not at all, and the stares of the town’s people are beginning to make you want to crawl into a hole and die.

“We’ll rest here tonight. For now, go out and have some fun.” Your father says, gesturing to an inn and letting his men take off as they will.

He turns to you, grinning as he nudges your shoulder and takes you on a walk. You watch him with pursed lips, aware of his games but just in the exact kind of mood to humor him.

“Are you taking me out into the forest again?” You ask.

“Yes.” He’s not even surprised that you’ve caught on. “You need to brush up on your fighting skills.”

“Why? I’m good at fighting already.”

“But being good is _never_ enough.” Jeralt huffs at you. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll find yourself killed by a purse thief.”

“I’d much rather die by the talons of a roc.” You pause as your father gives you a stare of raised eyebrows. “What? It’s a quick and easy way to go.”

Your father rolls his eyes. “Regardless, get out that sword of yours. Once we reach the forest, you should always be on the tips of your toes.”

A sword comes unclaimed from your belt. You hold it before you, watching the light of the dipping sun glint off its polished surface. It’s not a special sword – all your father’s friends wear the same brand – yet you can feel it resonate with you. It has a worn edge that speaks of its love for battle, the hilt decorated in dust and dirt, and you can’t help but think fondly of the thing that has gotten you through so many battles before.

You enter the forest and your father trails after you, perfectly content to let you take the lead as you ready yourself for anything. In woods beyond any human settlement there are, of course, expectations of danger. Monsters inhabit your world as do dangerous animals and plants. One can never be too cautious of their sudden arrival – especially out in the wilderness where the wild were known to roam.

Still, you stride forward with arrogance in your steps. You are a trained professional. You’ve known how to fight since you were a child. Nothing can scare you, nor can anything make your heart feel that fluttering sensation of fear that those eerie dreams give you on your darkest nights.

A scream slices into the air and you perk up. Your father narrows his eyes, forgetting his allowance of your leadership to run past you. His battle-axe is torn from his back, readied for battle as you follow him through a dense patch of undergrowth. Brambles and thorns grab at you, biting and gnawing as you claw your way through and come out into a clearing full of surprises.

“Get away from me!”

A girl draped in red raises her axe against a man clad in the uniform of a thief. She fights him with uneven strokes of her weapon, swinging almost aimlessly as she tries her best to fend him off.

“I won’t lose to you!”

A boy draped in blue holds his lance before him, countering the blows of a paladin with flurried movements in order to fend the older man off. You notice with some disappointment that the boy is breathing heavily, sweat glinting on his skin like shining water as if he’s been pushed to his limits.

“Is that the best you got?”

A gold-caped boy knocks an arrow and fires it a diving pegasus rider. He speaks boldly, arrogance threading his words, but you can see the way he struggles to knock an arrow in time. He is flimsy with his movements, slow and lacking in grace as he fires off an unsteady arrow.

“Those kids are in trouble,” your father observes. His eyes are scanning the battlefield, no doubt noticing the way the kids are outnumbered by the flock of bandits that surround them.

“We should help them.”

Your father nods in approval. “That we should. Let’s go.”

He charges forward and you follow in his pace. He heads for the two boys and, understanding his motive, you take after the girl. She’s being backed into a corner by a muscular man who’s pushed her towards the trunk of a tree. She fights him off with remarkable determination, her own axe clashing with his as she steps back and back. Then, she breaks away into a run, spinning on her heels as if she’s aware she’s soon going to be pressed against a corner.

The man sees his opportunity and charges at her. You act on instinct, running forward to clutch the girl into your arms and turn your back to the attack. You have no time to reconsider your actions as an axe is plunged into your back, pain blinding you as you protect the girl in your arms.

You die, but you don’t die in peace.

* * *

When you awaken, you do so in a room of black, still hunched in place as if you have continued clutching at the girl. There is nothing _but_ black. Nothing…but a white throne and the girl who sits atop it.

She rubs at her eyes, letting loose a yawn before she picks herself off the throne to lean forward and look at you. You notice with a start that she had bright green hair mixed with white and red. She’s dressed in the outfit of a priestess, a piece of golden armor depicting a strange symbol slapped across her stomach. Her eyes are as green as her hair, glinting with a strange kind of light as she looks over you.

“Oh my,” she says. “What could have brought you here?”

“I…” You start, backpedalling at the sight of the strange apparition. “Am I dead?”

“Ah,” her face scrunches in annoyance, “I see.”

“See what?”

She picks herself up off her throne. “You, human, are lucky. It seems time is on your side. Very well, I suppose I can look after you. I’m willing to provide a favor for a favor, after all.”

She claps her hands together and, despite how childish she looks, you can hear something old and ancient in the way she speaks.

“Do not look at me that way,” the girl says, almost huffing at your baffled stare. “I am not a child. I am something far beyond your understanding.”

“Who are you?” Slips from your mouth.

“Sothis,” says the girl. “I expect you to remember it.”

She leaves her throne and steps down a flight of stairs. You notice with a start that her sheer movements carry an undercurrent of power to them. There’s something awe-inspiring about this girl standing before him, something that has you stepping back as she comes to greet you.

“You have died, yes,” Sothis states, “but it won’t be that way soon. You have awakened me: as a result, I can’t help but to try and save my new vessel. Consider yourself lucky. Not many have the privilege of becoming my servant.”

“ _Servant?_ ”

Your outrage threads itself into your voice. Sothis doesn’t bat an eye at you, merely stepping to your side until her shoulder is almost touching your elbow.

“You wanted to save that girl, yes?” Sothis waves a hand and a distortion occurs, an image shimmering into existence as you spin around to watch her tricks.

Reflecting like moonlight on a puddle comes a picture of yourself with your arms around the red-caped girl. Nodding at Sothis, you step forward to touch the shimmering picture. It sparkles under your touch, remaining in place even as you swipe your hands through it.

“You can save her. I can give you the chance to save her.” The girl tilts her head at you before adding: “I can save _you_.”

“How?”

She snaps her fingers. The image rewinds and you see yourself moving backwards, arms unclutching the girl as your hand places your sword back in your belt. You stop at the beginning of a run, foot rushing forward and your eyes wide with the determination to protect.

“If I send you back now with the Divine Pulse,” Sothis says, “You can live again and save that girl in the process. How about it?”

You eye her. “What’s the catch?”

The girl blinks at you. “Catch?” She asks, voice mimicking that of a confused child. “What catch?”

“There’s always a catch for resurrecting the dead.”

“Ah,” Sothis’s lips stretch into a foreboding smile, “but I’m not resurrecting the dead now, am I?”

She snaps her fingers and the world goes dark.

~~~~

In an instant, you are transported back to the moment of time where you have chosen to save the girl.

Upon return to your body, you rush forward, drawing your sword from your belt to deflect the blow of the axe-wielder. You knock him backwards, letting loose a breath of air as you watch the man fly. He barrels into some of his own men, sending them into a pile of flailing limbs. They get to their feet and stare at you in fear, scrambling away without another word as you watch them go.

“Are you alright?” You ask the girl behind you.

“Yes, thank you,” her face lights up with gratitude and you feel a swell of relief puff in your chest. After all, it always feels nice to lend your hand to others and help them in their time of need.

“Hey!”

A voice calls from afar and the girl and you turn to watch as the boy in blue and the boy in gold come running towards you. They come to a stop a little ways before you, exchanging glances with one another, nodding, and then looking at you.

“Good job!” Your father praises, coming behind the two boys with his axe slickened in blood. He watches as the three youths talk amongst themselves and then grins at you when the girl turns her gaze to you. “Looks like you’ve caught a cute one’s eye for your heroics.”

You huff. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“No, of course not.” Jeralt ruffles your hair and you roll your eyes at him. “You’re too much of a goody-two shoes to bother catching a pretty girl’s eyes.”

“Thanks dad.”

Moments later, the girl draped in red comes to stand before you, the two boys at either side of her.

“We would like to thank you,” she says to you and your father, her gaze especially fixated on you. “For your heroics, we want to offer you a reward. However, we cannot do much here. We are members of an officer’s academy not too far from here. If you come with us, you can be compensated for your bravery.”

Jeralt narrows his eyes and you can tell with some surprise that your father is displeased by the offer. You sigh, knowing that the three teens before you won’t have their request accepted. Your father only reserves that sigh for things he finds too troublesome to deal with. You deposit your sword into your belt, waiting for your father to respectfully deny their wishes, when instead he dips his head and agrees.

“I would like that. However, many of my men are in the town nearby. I cannot possibly abandon them without a word to spare.”

“Of course,” the girl nods. “We will accompany you to the town then. I fear we might not be able to fend for ourselves if we continue into the woods unprotected yet again.”

“As you wish.”

You frown. Your father is not fond of escorting strangers – much less strangers with weapons strapped to their sides. Yet your father is letting this girl decide things for her own, catering to her whims in a way he never has before. For a second, you entertain the thought that your father has some ulterior motive for doing so. Then, you dismiss the idea entirely, watching in surprise as your father waves the teenagers forward and leaves you behind to deal with them.

“Yo,” says the gold-caped boy, a dark-skinned individual with messy black hair and glinting green eyes looking over you. “Thanks for the help back there.”

“You and your friend sure saved the day for us!” The blue-caped boy adds.

You correct him with a frown. “He’s my father."

The boy flusters in a rather cute way. “Ah, right, sorry. My apologies for the mistake.”

You give a curt nod of recognition and watch with amusement as the girl comes to your side. She is standing proudly before you, holding herself with an air of regal elegance as she approaches.

“Are you not a member of the Officer’s Academy?” She asks. “You look to be my age and your skills are unimaginable. Yet, I have not seen you around before.”

“I’ve been travelling around with my father all my life,” you respond. “I’ve never had time to attend any sort of academy.”

“That would explain it,” blue boy says. “But it’s such a shame. You’re good with a sword and my friends and I would love to learn more from you.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “My house-mates.”

“House-mates?”

“Fellow citizens of our countries,” the girl adds.

As if that makes things easier to understand.

You don’t question her, however, nodding your head. You get the feeling your father will scold you greatly if you question her in any way. Which, in all honesty, doesn’t make sense. This girl may be a noble – as she most certainly is since her cape is made from pure silk – but that has never stopped your father from declining any requests made to him before.

Instead, you opt for something more polite. “What are your names?”

There’s a look of surprise from the girl, a startle from the blue-caped boy and a chuckle from the gold-caped boy. They exchange glances, looking almost uneasy, before they dip their heads in some form of silent agreement and the girl speaks first.

“My name is Edelgard vo-,” the girl says and you don’t miss the way her lips clamp shut after she speaks her own name.

“Claude,” says the gold-caped boy. He gives you a wink and you can’t help but be a little bit annoyed at how charming he looks.

“Dimitri,” says the blue-caped boy, dipping into a bow too low to be anything other than dutifully respectful.

“Byleth,” you say, adding your name as a courtesy.

“A wonderful name,” Claude says. He holds out his hand. You shake it, watching the way he beams.

“Byleth means prince of demons, does it not?” Dimitri frowns. “Pardon my inquiry but is that not an ominous name to bear?”

You blink at him and accidentally let loose a little laugh. The boy blinks at you, looking somewhat hurt by your sudden outburst, when you reassure him with a smile. “Most would think so,” you say. “But for mercenaries, Byleth is a name that is superstitiously said to bring good luck to its bearer. It’s a bit of a strange naming tradition, I’m aware, but that’s how we mercenaries are: strange and unusual.”

“So it seems,” Dimitri muses before holding up his hands and flushing. “Ah, but I didn’t mean to offend you on your heritage.”

“No offense taken,” you say to him. “I’m well aware of culture clashes existing. This is just one of them.”

The boy nods and you can tell there’s wisdom sparkling in his eyes, newfound knowledge tucked into his gaze and stored in his brain as he accompanies you.

You and the others fall into silence. You try to think of something – anything – that would carry the conversation onwards but can think of nothing. You don’t know these youths. You don’t know what topics to discuss or what is appropriate to talk about. Do nobles appreciate being told stories of things that happen around the continent? Do nobles care for the politics of mercenaries on the wander? Do they care about the poverty witnessed in villages far away or the corruption present in towns and cities? Most likely, they did not. 

Thankfully, your father saves you before the silence has to continue any longer.

“We’re here in the village,” Jeralt says, gesturing to the outskirts of the village you have just left from. “I must warn you though, my men are rough around the edges. Please don’t mind them or their behavior.”

Another alarm bell rings in your head as you stare at him with wide eyes. Your father never bothered with giving warnings to nobles: especially not warnings that consisted of his own men’s “rough behavior”.

“We don’t mind,” Edelgard speaks. Despite saying that, however, she narrows her eyes and seems to stiffen immensely.

Your father nods, escorting you all to the inn. Already, you can see the other mercenaries enjoying themselves, sharing information amongst themselves and polishing their swords as they talk. When they take note of your father, they immediately brighten and run to him.

Among them, a burly man known as Alois steps forward.

“Jeralt!” He calls, throwing an arm around the man with a grin on his face. He acknowledges you with a smile before looking past you to raise his eyebrows. “Did you rescue some fancy-schmancy nobles again?”

Dimtri opens his mouth, almost as if to say something, when Edelgard shakes her head at him. He shuts his mouth and sighs. You watch the exchange with a frown, wanting to ask Dimitri if he’s somehow been offended, when Claude waves a hand at you as if to dismiss the ideas running in your head.

“Treat them with respect,” your father says gruffly. “They’re staying with us tonight until we can escort them back to the monastery.”

“Ah? Lost, are ya?” Alois eyes the three nobles. “Well, if our leader says it’s okay then I guess we won’t bother you.” He looks to Jeralt. “So, who are they staying with then? The inn’s already packed full of travelers.”

“Did you book a room for us?” Jeralt gestures to you and himself.

“Yes.”

“Give that room to them.” Jeralt points to the three nobles and then looks at you. “I expect _you_ to be by their sides as well. They’ll need protection from someone such as yourself.”

Your eyes widen at your father. “W-What?”

He narrows his eyes at you and you realize immediately you have no say in the matter. You nod, gaze turning to the three youths. They stare at you evenly in return.

“We’re in your care then,” Claude says. He claps you on the shoulder and you can _swear_ you hear a snicker from him.

Your father enters into the inn with the men at his back and you’re left to follow him with a dumbfounded look on your face. The three nobles go before you, each left seemingly unbothered by the proposal at hand. Meanwhile, you can’t help but feel a pang of anxiety in your stomach. Your father is well aware of how nervous you are around others relatively your own age. Yet, he still has assigned you to protecting these three nobles anyways…by sleeping in their room with them…like a strange sleepover you never wanted…

In a way, it makes you wonder what these three teenagers mean to your father and why he’s going to such extreme lengths to wrap you in their orbit. Ordinarily, in these circumstances, your father would be assigning one of his own men to watch over the nobles, not you. You were meant to be a soldier at his side: not a bodyguard who protects his escorts.

Still, there’s nothing you can do once your father makes up his mind. You give a sigh, a hand on your sword, and follow your charges into the assigned room you now share. Your father stops you at the entrance, pulling you aside as Edelgard, Dimitri and Claude make their way in. You look at him, eyebrows furrowing, and he follows up by placing both of his hands on your shoulders and staring at your with his face sharpened into seriousness.

“I want you to defend those three with your life,” he tells you. “No matter what it takes, keep them alive.”

You raise your eyebrows as many, _many_ alarm bells ring in your head. “Why do I need to protect them?” You blurt in your caution. “Shouldn’t Alois be doing that instead?”

Jeralt gives a sigh. “As I thought,” he says. He pulls back, shaking his head. “Those three are very, very important.” He tells you. “If they die, all of us will die too. So, their lives are in your hands.”

You stare at him, visibly gaping. You go to ask him for further explanation, to question your father on what he means, when Alois comes around the corner and calls him away.

Left with ominous words ringing in your ears, you enter the room. The three nobles are bickering with each other, fighting over who sleeps on the only bed in the room. You’re about to point out that there are at least _two_ beds in the room and that you don’t mind sharing, when they spot you and tell you to choose who sleeps where.

“We can share the beds,” you tell them. “I can sleep on the floor if you guys are uncomfortable sharing with me.”

They look amongst themselves.

“We couldn’t possibly trouble you any further,” Dimitri says. “Two of us will take the bed and one of us will sleep on the floor.”

“Not me!” Crows Claude. “I get the bed.”

“As do I.” Dimitri says.

Edelgard scowls at the both of them. “Not before me.”

They break out into a squabble and you almost snort at their antics, watching them push and shove each other like kids as they fight over one bed.

“How about this?” You say. “Rock paper scissors. Whoever loses three times first gets to sleep in my bed.”

There’s a groan from Claude as he looks at you. “You are _not_ sleeping on the floor,” he says.

“It would be uncouth of us to treat our savior so badly,” Dimitri adds with a nod.

“And yet I feel bad watching you three fight over one measly bed,” you tell them with a scowl. “I’m used to sleeping on strange surfaces. One night on a wooden floor wouldn’t hurt me.”

All three nobles shake their heads and you get the feeling that none of you are going to get anywhere progressive at this rate.

“Fine, let’s go with my original proposition.” You say. “Let’s share the beds. Whoever loses at rock-paper-scissors sleeps with me. If you insist I sleep in the bed, I’m dragging one of you with me.”

They look amongst themselves, breaking out into laughter as your face twists into something grumpy. They accept your terms, hands held out and shaking, before the loser comes before you and bows her head.

“It looks like I’m with you,” Edelgard states with a huff. You somehow get the idea that she’s sulking.

“It seems that way,” you agree and then gesture to the bed. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything.”

“You don’t seem like the type,” Edelgard agrees.

You release your sword from your waist, loosen your armor, and slip into bed. Edelgard follows your example, changing into pajamas into an adjoining bathroom as she slides under the bedsheets. Meanwhile, Claude and Dimitri do the same with their own bed, bickering about something inconsequential as you settle down. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling your sense of anxiety easing as the room falls into a sleepy sense of peace.

Within minutes, your body is wracked with fatigue and you find yourself closing your eyes.

* * *

You awaken in the room of pitch black. Sothis is there to greet you, smiling as she comes off her pedestal to approach you.

“Welcome back,” she says, standing in front of you and ghosting her fingers against your own. You pull back from her, glaring, and she chuckles. “Don’t be afraid, you and I will be _great_ _friends_ in the future.”

“I have questions for you.”

She blinks. “Why, of course you do. Now, tell me, what is it you’re curious about?”

“What are you?”

“A deity,” she responds without hesitance.

“A deity of what?”

“Time. Probably.”

“Probably?”

She shrugs. “What can I say?” She circles you. “I don’t have any recollection of who I am.”

You turn your body to face her, spinning in a circle to match hers. “As in…no memories?”

“Mm, yes. In other words: I have amnesia.” She shrugs. “Now, next question?”

You frown at her. “How were you able to save me?”

“Time,” she responds. “I reversed the flow of time to save you.” She smiles at you. “Or rather, you yourself did.”

You glare at her. She giggles.

“I gave you a special power, my dear. You just happened to use it when needed.” She steps close to you, fingers yet again brushing against your own. “Let me tell you something you can tell no one else: you are special. Very special. The kind of special that needs protection.”

“You say that like I can’t protect myself.”

“Not against the threats you’ll be facing in the future, no. Trust me on this: soon, you’ll be making a difficult choice. And, that choice will lead you to ruin.”

You stare at her. She continues talking.

“What will you choose? How will you react? What awaits you?” Sothis shakes her head. “My, I almost can’t wait for you to see.”

She snaps her fingers and the world goes dark once again.

* * *

When you awaken, Edelgard and the others are already gathered around the other bed. You can hear them whispering, hear them talking about things that don’t make sense to your ears, when they notice you awaken and come to greet you.

“Hello again,” Dimitri says.

For a moment, you don’t recognize him. Then, your mind clears of its haze and you give a sleepy nod.

“We were just thinking about waking up you up,” Edelgard says, grabbing your sword from your bedside and handing it to you. “Your father came and told us to get ready.”

You nod again and hurry out of bed, re-attaching your armor and slipping your sword into place. The three nobles nod their heads, already dressed and equipped with weapons as they lead you out.

Your father is there to greet you, nodding his head as he leads you out of the inn. His men are already equipped and ready to go, rallying around your father while taking the time to stare at the nobles. The three of them seem uneasy as your father’s men do so, pressing against each other and stepping back to stand within your general vicinity. You watch their skittish change in behavior, a hand on your hilt and a smile on your face to try and reassure them.

“ _Their lives are in your hands._ ”

Your father’s voice echoes back to you and, somehow, that makes you want to be protective of these three before you. So you usher them behind you, separating them from your father’s men, and watch with relief as they relax.

“If we want to get to the monastery by nightfall, we better leave now,” Jeralt states, escorting you and the rest out of the village. “We’ll be protecting Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard with our lives if we must.”

“You don’t have to defend us that hard,” Claude says, plucking an arrow from the quiver on his back and spinning it. “We can fend for ourselves.”

“Says the one who ran away in battle,” Edelgard mutters and Dimitri cracks a grin at that.

You leave the village and, at that moment, you can sense a great change upon you. The wind plays with your hair, welcoming you as it ushers you out and into the world. The three nobles stand before you, waiting for you as you pause to greet it, before you join them with a smile and they nod their heads for you to lead.

* * *

When you arrive at the monastery with three nobles in tow, you’re greatly surprised by the amount of people who come to greet your party. A whole flock of nobles leaps forward to take Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard into their arms, blubbering profusely as you stand back to watch them do so.

It’s there that a lady dressed in a spectacular suit of armor comes to greet you. Her gaze is kind and welcoming as she does so, beckoning you forward to the chambers of a beautiful green-haired woman and a handsome man who holds a tome in his hands.

There, after a series of events that passes beyond your comprehension, you’re told a variety of things that shock you all at once:

For one, the three nobles you have just escorted are – apparently - _the three future leaders of Fodlan._ That in of itself is enough to send you apologizing to Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard, bowing low and confessing your shame of treating them so ignorantly. However, all three of them dismiss your apologies with patient smiles, exchanging their playful demeanors for something almost sadly serious in nature.

Second of all: There are three houses within the monastery, each filled to the brim with hand-picked nobles from Faergus, Adrestia, and Leicester. These are filed under the respective names of: the Blue Lions, the Black Eagles, and the Golden Deer and are led by each of the three future leaders.

Third of all: the monastery that you are in the presence of is a school of nobles. Run by Rhea, the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros (and the woman who is giving you this explanation), the school is meant to teach those of the nobility the way of surviving through a world plagued with problems. That doesn’t surprise you as much as the first revelation, but the words Rhea speaks next send you stumbling back.

“We are in need of a teacher,” she says, “and we would like you to fill that position.”

“But I’m not qualified for such a task!” You protest.

“That is of little concern. What matters more is your talent and insight. As Alois has told me, you are skilled with any weapon under the sun and have battlefield insights the likes of which our own teachers have never seen before. That is why we would like you to stay here, to teach one of our school’s three houses and help them succeed.”

And with that said, you are left unable to argue as Rhea gestures to the three leaders before you and asks you to pick from among them. Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard straighten immediately, their gazes turning to you, waiting.

Forced to make a decision, you open your mouth and say…

* * *

The first choice you make is Edelgard.

You don’t know what it is about her that makes you so drawn to her and yet there is something about her that pulls you in. Still, she accepts your words and welcomes you with a smile as takes you to meet the rest of her house.

There, you meet a variety of characters known as Hubert, Dorothea, Caspar, Bernadetta, Petra, Linhardt and Ferdinand. They greet you with warm faces, each taking to you like a moth to flame as they tell you the ins and outs of their house. You grow accustomed to them quickly, learning of their quirks in personality as you accompany their house.

And, you think, it’s quite a nice feeling to be able to lead them. Edelgard is a brilliant leader, managing her companions with vigor and an uncanny ability to motivate even the laziest of mages. You admire her for her passion to protect her people, fighting side-by-side with her as you clash swords with people who want to hurt Edelgard and topple her empire.

In time, you learn to grow fond of the red-caped girl, spending more and more time with her in the form of morning tea and sparring on the training grounds. It comes to a point that you and her are almost inseparable, sharing personal secrets and fears under moonlit skies and laughing away your worries in each other’s arms.

It even gets to the point you get desperate when Edelgard is majorly wounded in a fight against a rebellion, turning back time to whisk her away from a fatal blow. You don’t know quite how it happened – only that your chest had constricted so hard from fear and anguish one moment and in the next you’re back in time– but you do know that you are grateful for being able to cradle her in your arms again.

From there, you swear to let nothing happen to her ever again. You do anything you can to keep her from repeating that incident, instructing her to act from the back of the army and always staying by her side in combat. You even instruct her not to partake in sparring matches without your presence to accompany her, unyielding in your decision.

Edelgard becomes so flustered by your sudden streak of protectiveness that follows afterwards, however, that she confronts you on it. Anger is written clear on her face as she fights your possessiveness, axe drawn before her as if to cement the seriousness of her state of mood.

“You can’t determine how I lead my life for me!” She snaps at you, axe pointed at your chest as she narrows her eyes at you. “You can’t control me like your little toy!”

“Edelgard…” Your voice is quiet. You want to explain, to tell her of the sight you saw on that battlefield. You what to tell her how you saw her body, broken, contorted, blood marring her face and her eyes lifeless in her sockets. She doesn’t know of that event, doesn’t know of what the event you witnessed or how powerful its impact was upon you.

Still, you can’t exactly explain to her that you’re a time-travelling mercenary who saw her die in battle once. So, instead, you close your eyes and nod.

“I’m sorry, my princess,” you tell her, biting back tears in your eyes as you relent before her. If only she could understand the fear that’s throbbed in your veins ever since her demise. Or even the way you just want to hold her tight and never let go. Then maybe she wouldn't be so stubborn and maybe she would just let you protect her like you want to. “I was just worried about your well-being and it looks like I got ahead of myself. I apologize in advance.”

She stares at you, no doubt judging the sincerity of your apology. However, she must like what she sees because she ushers you up and nods in acceptance. “Thank you, teacher.”

You nod in return and then the tension in the air eases around you. You let her take the front lines in a fight and you let her do as she pleases, only keeping a wary eye when the need arises.

You won’t lose her. You won’t lose her ever. That, you swear.

* * *

A promise is a promise. However, promises – as Sothis tells you – are meant to be broken.

“Time is cruel,” says the girl with amnesia. “You may promise someone something, say that you’ll give them the world and your heart, only for time to take them away from you.

She sounds like she’s recalling something important. However, the lofty look she shoots you makes you think otherwise. It’s a knowing stare, the kind that creeps under your skin and reads things about you that you don’t know yourself.

“Just watch,” she tells you, “your promise to protect her won’t last forever.”

* * *

You think nothing of Sothis’s words.

Sothis, as you’ve become aware, is something like a witch. She oozes magical power from her fingertips and stares at you like she can read all your secrets from your face. There is something rather odd about her, something you can’t quite place, and yet you find yourself coming to her chambers time and time again like a puppy looking for its lost master.

You don’t take her seriously. You _can’t_ take her seriously. She speaks in riddles, after all. No one can take that kind of talk seriously.

However, you can’t help but take her words to heart when, one day, you’re sent five years into the future.

* * *

When you arrive five years into your current timeline, you find yourselves in the clutches of the Adrestian Empire. A group of soldiers escort you to the main castle on the accusation of being a Faergus spy, hassling you up a flight of stairs to stand before the Emperor to confess your crime.

You’re stunned into confusion, trying to negotiate with the guards who are handling you – “I know the Emperor’s daughter! Let me speak to her!” and “Filthy liar. The Emperor has no daughter.” – when you’re forced into the head chamber of the leader of the Adrestian Empire without a second word.

There, however, you come face-to-face with a woman who is both familiar and strange to you. She is draped in red armor gilded with wavy lines, snow white hair tucked into a helmet adorned with horns. Cold purple eyes stare upon you, her face otherwise expressionless as she stands up and comes to greet you.

“Teacher,” Edelgard says, speaking your nickname with something like reverence, “it’s been a long time.”

“That it has,” you say, shrinking before her as she approaches.

“I was wondering where you went.” Was that anger in her voice? Oh yes. That was _definitely_ anger in her voice. “You abandoned me for five years straight and only now do you come skulking back to me?”

“Not by choice,” you remind her, eyeing the guards that stand behind you.

Somehow, that makes her voice even angrier. “You _disappeared,_ teacher. You disappeared and left me alone for _so long._ Do you know how that _feels_ , to be abandoned by the one person you care for most? Do you, teacher?”

“I don’t,” you say.

Edelgard stops in front of you, leaning over you and grabbing your chin as she does so. She inspects you with her cold eyes, ignoring the way your body shivers as her armor brushes against your skin.

“I’m not a forgiving person,” she says, “and I’m not the student you knew. Even so, for you I’m willing to give a second chance. Come to my side, teacher. Come to my side and help me lead my army. Everyone will happily welcome you back if you swear allegiance to me. Won’t that be wonderful?”

You’re not so sure. Edelgard’s fingers feel so unfamiliar and she speaks so strangely. You get the feeling that Edelgard is luring you into some game of hers, that her anger is only a façade and that there’s something deeper underneath.

Still, she twists your around her little finger with ease, tempting you in with a hug. You reciprocate the action uncertainly, breathing in the scent of lavender as you do so.

When the hug is over with, you get on your knee before her and bow your head. “I swear allegiance to the Adrestian Empire,” you say to her.

You watch as she kneels down before you, her own hand grabbing your own as she presses a kiss to the back of it.

“And I welcome you as one of my knights,” she tells you, lips curling up into a smile at the red blaring on your face. “May you serve me well.”

* * *

You accept Edelgard’s offer to join her, fighting once again beside her as you pave your way through a war full of hardships.

As you do so, you realize with a pang that you have become drawn to this red-cloaked woman. Even though she’s grown with the passage of time, there’s something so alluring about her that you can’t help but stay by her side.

She’s still Edelgard. She’s still the girl you knew in your days as a teacher. Yet, she’s grown. Her positive attitude has been withered by her newly-obtained cynical nature, creating a woman who takes no chances with things she finds she can’t control. Unruly citizens of her country are beheaded without a second thought and those who refuse to fight for her are convinced through time spent in her dungeons. It horrifies you, in a way, to see how hardened the girl you taught has become.

Yet, somehow, it elates you. It elates you how much she’s grown and how much she’s worked to keep her empire standing. She is as devoted to her people as she is cruel to them yet, somehow, her people still love her.

“They know what I’m doing is right,” Edelgard says to you one day, when you bother to question her leadership tactics. “This empire is suffering under the opposition of tyrants and thieves. Tell me. Do you remember Dimitri and Claude, teacher?”

“I do.” You say, knowing full well where this is going.

“They are our enemies, teacher,” she tells you as she always does. “They’ve let themselves be corrupted by their own anger and folly. As Emperor of my kingdom, I cannot tolerate such mistreatment of their people. Even if I must take their nations by force, I will save the people within it and lead them back onto the righteous path.”

You sigh in contentment, valuing her words highly. Edelgard is not a liar and you have seen firsthand the good she is doing for her country. Her people adore her. And, by extension, they adore you two, worshipping the ground you walk on as you stand by the Emperor’s side.

However, it is not until Edelgard dies in front of you that you begin to see the truth of your twisted reality.

One night, when the moon is high in the sky and darkness swathes the Adrestian Palace, fire lights the world around you. People are screaming, soldiers decked in red are attacking citizens fleeing in the streets. Blood is everywhere. Smoke is filling your vision like a haze and it takes all you can to flee from your room and assess your way through the castle.

People come at your from left and right, attacking you and spitting on you like you’re a demon from another world. You fight against them, killing them without batting an eye because _they_ don’t matter but _Edelgard_ does. 

You scrape your way through hallways made of rumble and cut yourself several times on sharp wires and thorns creeping in from ruined walls. There’s a hum of magic in the air, a sharp crackle of energy that has you on the tips of your toes as you climb your way to the Emperor’s chambers.

It takes you awhile - ten, thirty, maybe even forty minutes - but you make your way to the signature black door gilded in gold and find, to your horror, that the door has been ripped off its hinges. You scramble through the doorway, bloodied, cut up, and exhausted beyond belief from the fumes of smoke blocking your lungs, yet all you think about is the figure in red that sits before you.

Edelgard is lying on the ground, cut up and mutilated beyond belief. Her snow white hair is cast around her, splotched with red and black. Flames lick at her body, eating away her fingers and already in the process of snatching up her knees.

You vomit at the mere sight of her, body weak to the sight of such terror. Even with the vile concotion dripping down your chin, even with the way you heave for air and feel sick in your stomach, you crawl your way to Edelgard and drape her into your arms. Her head falls to the ground and you pick it up to fit it back into the place on her neck. It’s a tragic sight, to see those lovely purple eyes staring emptily back at you, and your wail that follows is something that screams of your despair.

Then, an axe falls upon the ground and you snap your head up to watch as a man draped in blue leans over you. Behind him, Edelgard’s own soldiers stand, weapons at their sides as they look upon the man with reverence. 

“So you lived, teacher,” says the man, his fingers running through blond hair to touch on the eyepatch around his face. “Pity. It almost makes me disgusted to have to kill you too.”

You look at him, cradling Edelgard close. “Dimitri?” You ask, voice weak. “Dimitri, is that you?”

“It is, teacher.” Dimitri gives her a wicked smile. “Fear not though, I won’t let you endure any more suffering any longer. I am a chilvarous person, after all, and I don’t like seeing damsels in distress. Free free to join your beloved student in the afterlife.”

He raises his axe over you just as his words click into place. Fury overtakes you, anger hot and boiling consuming your body. You hate this man. You hate the fact that Edelgard is dead in your arms, cut up and irreparable. You hate that you have no time to think as you use your powers. You hate that everything will soon be dissolving in light and you’ll have to save Edelgard yet again from a terrible fate. 

Your power takes over you and you fade away.

* * *

Except, this time, you don’t go back in time.

No, instead, you end up in the chambers of Sothis. The girl greets you with a knowing smile, stepping off her throne to bow before you.

“You chose wrong,” the witch of time says.

“Wrong?” You glare at her. “What did I do _wrong?_ And why am I here? I should be at Edelgard’s side! I should be helping her! I shouldn’t-”

“-be here?” Sothis finishes for her, only to laugh when she watches your lips tremble. “But you are, my dear, and for a good cause.”

“ _What_ good cause?”

“I’m giving you a second chance,” Sothis spins around, her arms held out before her, before she pauses to smile at you. “Your choice was invalid. Therefore, I’m going to be benevolent and grant you another trip through time to redeem yourself. Choose wisely, my dear. Tragedy awaits you if you don’t.”

She snaps your fingers and you are whisked away. 

* * *

In an instant, you reawaken in the monastery of old. Except, you don’t necessarily reawaken as you do open your eyes and realize you are standing with Edelgard right before you. She looks younger though, much younger, and at her side are Dimitri and Claude, both of whom stare at you with sparkling eyes.

“Make a choice,” a green-haired lady reminds, and you’re surprised to see Rhea coming to your side. _A corpse reborn from the grave,_ you muse, taking in her figure with narrowing eyes. “Of these three houses, who will you choose?”

Your eyes immediately dart to Edelgard. She beams under your gaze, smiling that polite smile of hers that showcases charisma while hiding her sense of insecurity. You’re tempted to call her name, to clutch her close and bury yourself against her chest and make her promise that everything will turn out alright.

But then you remember her mutilated corpse in your hands and you hastily turn your attention to the other two leaders.

Sothis had told you that you’d chosen wrongly. If that were the case, then choosing Edelgard would just repeat that tragedy, wouldn’t it? That’s why you were sent back in time to this exact moment. Right? 

You take in a deep breath, looking at your two choices remaining. If you don’t want to trouble Edelgard, if you don’t want to lead her and her empire to ruin, then you must choose someone else.

At first, you think about Dimitri. The boy is smiling peacefully, nodding his head to you as if to welcome you into his arms. For a moment, you waver in his direction. Then, you remember seeing his older self looming over Edelgard, remember the way his axe was stained in her blood, and you turn you head away to see Claude standing before you.

The boy tilts his head at you as you look at him, straightening up slightly as if to make himself more presentable. He looks at you with waiting eyes, face bright and cheery as if to tease you for your hesitance in making a decision.

“I choose the Golden Deer.” You say to Rhea.

Claude nods his head in agreement, not at all sporting a shock of look at your decision (not like he had before, sulking and pouting when Edelgard had taken your hand) and he accepts your decision with a big grin.

“You won’t regret this, teach,” he says with a pat on your shoulder.

You look back to Edelgard for just a split second. She watches after you, teeth biting her bottom lip, and you feel heartbreak inside you when you see the disappointment traced ever so clearly on her face.

 _I’m protecting you_. You think. _I won’t let you suffer again because of me._

* * *

The Golden Deer are an interesting house. Unlike the Black Eagles, who are, by nature, a collection of nobles with a flare of magic, the Golden Deer are a collection of commoners with a flare for archery and a penchant for getting into trouble.

Roused by their playful leader, the group greets Byleth with open arms and eyes full of intrigue. Among Claude’s house are a collection of students Byleth’s only briefly met in passing beforehand: Lysithea, Raphael, Lorenz, Hilda, Ignatz, Leonie, and Marianne. Each of them greet you with the same passion as the Black Eagle students had before, stars in their eyes as they welcome you into their lives.

From there, you realize with a start how much different the Golden Deer are from the Black Eagles. Whereas Edelgard is a strong and dutiful leader, Claude is a cautious yet cunning one, leading his companions to victory time and time again without ever approaching the front lines. In a way, his mere presence is a breath of fresh air compared to Edelgard’s for, while you still mourn over the Edelgard that you knew, the house leader that stands before you is more than enough distraction to forget your fears and anxieties.

In time, you even grow to like the Golden Deer. Even though they are so vastly different from what you’re used to, there’s something rather admirable about how they charm and manipulate everyone around them. 

Even at the class battle royale, you can’t help but admire the way Claude commands his crew despite standing behind them. Some ( _Edelgard_ , you think) might suppose him a coward from staying away from the battlefield, his bow held before him as he shoots at a distance. However, despite his claims of running away being the most important step in battle, she can’t help but think he would fight to his dying breath if he had to.

In time, you grow close to Claude, working back to back in fights and spending time staring at the stars when you both have nothing better to do. It’s a nice feeling, one that easily distracts you from your longings towards Edelgard. Eventually, you come to adjust yourself to Claude’s presence, getting used to his sincere smiles and his quiet confessions that won’t reach any other ears.

“I resent my dad,” he tells you one day, when you two are alone in a classroom with no chance of prying ears flying about. “I don’t want to grow up to be like him. I don’t want to be restricted in rules, regulations, and anything that can bind me to a ball and chain.”

You take his admittance with a bit of surprise and a bit of understanding. It makes sense after all: Claude von Reigan has never been one for rules or anything that could destroy his right to freedom. 

“You don’t have to grow up to be like him,” you tell him, walking up flights of stairs to stand beside the chair he sits in. “You are your own person, your own leader of your own alliance. You may be under your father’s rule now but when you become the leader you have the right to act as you wish. So long as your people don’t lose their respect for you, anything you do should be fine.”

“Even if I take the hand of a certain teacher in marriage?” He asks, looking at you with shining eyes.

You rap your knuckles on the tip of his head and he pouts. “No jokes,” you tell him.

“But what if I wasn’t joking?” He grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

You scowl at him. “You are.” He pouts and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Detention.”

“What? _No_.”

You laugh and he crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat and giving a big sigh. “Sometimes you’re a real stick in the mud, teach.”

“I try,” you tease.

“You should try a little less.” He stands up from his seat and you can sense with some disturbance that he’s talking about something else entirely. “Loosen up, teach. You’ve been looking like a ghost’s corpse for the past couple of months.”

His eyes stare straight into you, boring into your soul. It makes you pale and take a step back. However, this doesn’t sate Claude. He steps forward, a hand on your shoulder.

“If you got some sort of problem troubling you, I’m happy to shoot it in the back for you.” He tells you with a nod. “We’re all friends here in the Golden Deer. And, if something is making you miserable, it’s my job to take care of it.”

His words are so kind and so sincere that, against your own rationality, you suddenly bring him into a hug and wrap your arms tight around him. A sob wrenches itself from your throat and you think yourself pathetic to losing to his kindness so easily. 

Claude, to his credit, takes your crying figure with a gentle touch, reciprocating your hug with an exasperated sigh as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you say to him.

Yet, when you say the words, you don’t think of him. Rather, you think of Edelgard, of her body sheared to pieces and left to crumble in your arms. You think of all the regrets that you’ve been piling in yourself every time you see Edelgard and her house. You think of the way you’ve been trying not to cry at night, to try and truly forget everything you’ve seen and heard, to forget the way your innocence was lost long ago.

“It’s okay, teach,” Claude says to you. His words are devoid of meaning to your ears because, after all, he doesn’t know of the things you’ve seen and heard. Yet, somehow, that makes things easier for you. You cry against his chest, ignoring the way you are ruining his uniform and taking up all of this time to cry in front of him. You’re selfish, clinging to this boy under the pretense of his kindness and releasing your pent-up emotions before him.

Yet, when you pull back to wipe at your eyes, salty leftover tears gleaming on your skin, you can’t help but notice the way Claude is looking down on you. His gaze is kind and not at all as teasing as you expect it to be. Instead, it’s alight with some sympathetic form of pity, his smile small but reassuring as he promises to escort you to your room.

“I’m sorry,” you say again: to him. “I didn’t mean to break down on you like that.”

“It’s fine,” he murmurs. “We all need to cry now and then. Even me sometimes.”

Claude says it like he understands what you’re going through, says it like he’s pent up his emotions before and has never let them loose until an inopportune moment arrives. It surprises you. This boy, who is ever all mischief and pranks, admitting to something so sad, makes you grab his hand and squeeze it tight.

“If you need to cry,” you tell him. “Then you can come to me at any time. I’ll stay by your side and listen.”

His gaze softens immensely at his words and you can tell how touched he is at your statement. “Of course,” he responds in such a soft voice. “Thank you, teach.”

* * *

“You’ve made yet another promise you can’t keep.” Sothis stares at you, tapping her fingers atop her throne as you come to visit her. “Such a foolish child.”

“I’ll keep this promise,” you snap back to her. “I know I can do better. I’ll stay by his side no matter what.”

“So you say.” Sothis sighs, slumping on her throne. “But how long will your convictions last? Claude is a wonderful leader, no doubt, but even the golden boy of a prized aristocracy can’t hold his weight against the current of time. Say, do you want to make a bet?” The witch of time looks upon you with a snicker. “Can you save him? Or will he, too, fall like Edelgard?”

“I won’t let him die. I won’t let him be hurt. If I have to let go of Edelgard than I won’t let go of him!”

Sothis narrows her eyes. “You are quick to develop feelings for those you shouldn’t. Did you fall for him too? As I recall, you were madly infatuated with that red emperor when you were by her side. Quick to betray her for another then, are we?”

Your lips curl. “You speak as if you have knowledge of my affairs.”

“Oh. I do.” Sothis kicks her feet back and forth. “You just haven’t come to terms with that yet.”

She snaps her fingers before you can respond. In an instant, you are yet again sent back to the world you came from.

* * *

Everything repeats itself as it does before. Your students graduate from the monastery. You watch them go, a proud smile on your face. Then, time warps before you, sucking you in and spitting you out five years into the future.

This time, however, you are stumbled upon by an adult Claude von Reigan himself. The man comes upon you just as you stumble into a forest full of monsters, protecting you from the appearance of a nightmarish being. Then, he rounds on you with a tight hug, burying his head into the crook of your neck and crushing you tightly against him.

“Teach!” He whispers your name against your neck. “Teach you’re _back_.”

“I am, Claude, I am.” You bury yourself against him, taking in the scent of cinnamon that lingers on him and losing yourself in the smell. “I’m sorry I left for so long.”

“That doesn’t matter to me,” he nuzzles against you, his breath brushing your chin as he does so. “Nothing else matters.”

You embrace him for a long time, lost in that moment, when he parts from you and you notice with a start that his face is burning up with the beginning of tears. He wipes his face, his uneasy smile hinting at his embarrassment as he does so.

“It’s okay to cry,” you remind him.

“But the leader of the Leicester Alliance isn’t allowed to cry,” the man shoots back in a pained warble. He shakes his head, taking your hand and bringing you forward. “Come on teacher, we need to get you home before something comes after you. These woods are dangerous, you know.”

You nod, feeling elation in the way he grabs at your hand and escorts you to his palace. There, you are greeted by your former students, all of whom accept you without question when Claude reintroduces you to them. They hug you, asking you about everything that has happened in the five years you’ve let them be. You explain some things to them, fabricating an elaborate story about being overseas on some faraway continent called Ylisse. Everyone eats the story up out of your hand, voicing their envy of how you’ve avoided hearing of their tragedy.

However, not everyone is content with your explanation. Even as the group around you departs to fulfill their noble duties, Claude remains behind. His eyebrows are furrowed, face scrunched and lips frowning. You recognize that expression with a streak of fear: it’s Claude’s thinking face when he feels something doesn’t quite add up.

And, indeed, he confronts you on your story, poking at its flaws and inconsistencies and looking quite disappointed with you. You’re tempted to tell him the truth, that you can travel through time and that you’ve managed to end up five years into the future. Instead, you stutter an excuse and apologize for your inability to properly explain your situation.

Thankfully, that’s all he needs to sate his curiosity. Respecting your privacy, he only nods his head and continues on the tour of his palace. You’re grateful for his foresight, staying close to his side and admiring how much he’s grown as he leads you around. He’s become more handsome in his maturity, his loose outfit exchanged for something bold and fitting. You notice with amusement that he’s wearing a flashy cape, grabbing it into your hands at one point out of fascination and earning yourself raised eyebrows from its wearer.

“You never wore capes before,” you tell him when he questions you.

He huffs. “That’s because I was never forced to,” he turns around with his cape still in your hands and places his fingers over yours. “Now that I’m leader, however, I have to wear this thing. But it’s not all bad, at least I get to look like a cool hero! Right?”

Claude winks at you, cupping your hands in his own and kissing the tips of your fingers. You fluster, trying not to turn bright red after seeing his flirtations. 

“I-I suppose,” you respond to him, blushing harder at your own blunder in speech.

“Nervous, teach?” 

“Not at all!”

He laughs at you, stepping back and leading you forward. There’s a sparkle in his eyes, something playful and carefree, and you find yourself wrapped around his little finger just like you were Edelgard.

Thinking of the woman, however, brings up a set of questions that has you squeezing Claude’s hands.

“Tell me, Claude,” you say to him, “what has become of Dimitri and Edelgard?”

All happiness dissipates from Claude’s face immediately. He stiffens, almost shrinking away from you as he shakes his head.

“They’re at war with each other. And with me.”

Your heart catches in your chest. The three nations were at war again. In your mind, you flashback to all the battles that take place in the Adrestian Empire. You wonder if those same tragedies will occur again without your guidance like the Garrestian Plague, the Massacre at Kline, the Revolt of the Commoners and so. You’re tempted to tell Claude to prevent such tragedies in any way possible, to provide specially-grown herbs to Adrestia, to prevent the battle at the Kline Marsh from happening, and to somehow appease the unruly citizens of Edelgard’s before they take Hubert away from Edelgard’s side. 

However, such thoughts die on your tongue. Without you to guide Edelgard, perhaps those tragedies that occurred in your time with her would not occur again. It would be like the butterfly effect Sothis had once told you about: that, once a butterfly flaps its wings, the wind that results from such an action follows to become a hurricane. And if you, the butterfly, flap your wings in a different direction, who was to say that an Edelgard left bereft of your presence would fare worse without you?

So, you listen to Claude’s explanation of his situation without commenting on the fears you hold inside.

As you do so, you notice with a start how different Claude’s situation is from what you were taught by Edelgard. Back when you stood at Edelgard’s side, Leicester was told to have been broken down to the point of decay, its citizens morally corrupt and its leader even more so. However, you notice very quickly that that isn’t quite the truth of the matter.

Claude explains to you about the political instability of his alliance, noting that he’s lost control of some of his major politicians who have run amok with power. He tells you that, no matter how many times he tries to rid himself of rotten hearts of lustful, money-driven nobles, they always come creeping back in one way or another, eager to abuse his power and eager to resist him. 

He states his frustrations in one long string of tangents, using some pretty words that have you wincing as he vents his anger. But, it’s through his words that you come to understand more of his situation. His own people are working against him, chasing after hedonistic pleasures and ruining the lives of others in the process. Slavery, rape, corruption, murder, and overall sleaziness reeks in his countries darkest corners, festering where Claude himself cannot reach. 

It gets to the point you can tell he’s carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders. It even goes so far that he pulls you into his bed chambers, crushes you into a hug, and asks for your permission to cry. You hug him tight, chin on the top of his head, and he buries himself into you chest, shudders wracking his body as he sobs against you.

“It’s okay, Claude,” you tell him, running a hand along his back in the most reassuring way that you can. “I’m here. I’ll help.”

And, while he doesn’t say anything, you can tell he’s grateful. He presses closer to you, crying and crying, and you wonder if this is what you looked like to him all those years ago. You quickly decide it doesn’t matter, however, as you hum a song to him.

Within minutes, his sobs subside and you find him slumped into your arms, exhaustion forcing him into sleep. You hold him like that for awhile, fingers brushing his hairline and then trailing down to his hand. You hold it tightly, squeezing, and hum some more.

Oh, if only moments like these could last forever.

* * *

But such moments are not meant to last and, in time, you come to grow yet again. Even though this is your second lifetime, there is something rather freeing about staying by Claude’s side. The man is a great leader, not at all corrupt like Edelgard has once told you. You can tell that much by the way he works tirelessly to rid his country of the sickness that has overtaken it since his father’s death.

However, not everyone is happy with the way he runs things. 

The Leicester Alliance is run on democracy, after all, and the nobles within Claude’s sphere of influence are far and few. You witness this at a meeting between all of the leaders of the nation, watching as nobles from far and wide gather to hold a vote. And, much to your disgust, many of the nobles spear down Claude’s suggestions with a vigor that has him snapping in frustration. You can tell he wants to make changes, _big_ _changes_ , but the members of his parliament are so rooted in their ways that change is impossible to coerce.

And, as the meeting ends, you’re left to hear the words of nobles mocking that of your beloved leader. As Claude leaves to attend to another matter entirely, you overhear discussions that make you sick to your stomach.

They call Claude a fool, a coward, a schemer, a fake. They look down upon them, thumbing their noses at him like some sort of inferior. They declare him unfit, declare him a poor imitation of his father and spit on his name like they’re discussing the likes of a criminal. 

It angers you to the point you step in and reprimand them. Claude is their leader, after all, and they can’t treat him with such blatant disrespect when he’s doing his best to save his country from corruption! 

However, your interruptions are taken with scoffs and sneers. Some refer to you as “Claude’s personal toy in bed”. Others make flirtatious remarks that make you shudder with revulsion. A group of men roll their eyes while a flock of women state that your opinion is worthless.

It makes you bitter. You hate these nobles, hate how they leer at you like a pack of hyenas and expect you to cower because of it. You hold your head high, however, standing your ground to defend the man who has cried on your shoulders because he can’t do a thing to help his country. 

You even get to the point that you’ve sparked hostility between yourself and the nobles within Claude’s alliance. They regard you as Claude’s little sheep, blindly following him through the dark and all the more fun to toy with. You’re mocked and belittled behind closed doors, offered temptations of power and money, and then outright slapped when the nobles fail to coerce you away from your ideals.

For that, you find an angry Claude at work. He is not a man of anger, not normally, but having seen the red handprint on the left side of your cheek must have torn him apart. He snaps, tracking down the noble who committed such an offense and manipulates the man into confessing his crimes. 

It’s almost a terrifying sight, to see Claude pointing an arrow at a stranger’s head just because they’ve gone too far. Yet, you’re not sure if you have it in you to care as, mysteriously, the noble who committed the offense is found dead on the roadside of some country street three days later. You ask Claude about it, if only out of curiosity, and find that the man’s lips are shut tightly about such an incident.

“He had it coming,” he tells you darkly, not at all admitting fault but not at all denying it, either.

You nod, not at all thinking of Claude’s actions as something indecent. You, too, have grown tired of the way the nobles are trampling down upon you both and, in the end, you’re glad there’s one less corrupt noble in his alliance.

Still, Claude’s actions do not come without ramifications. Whispers fell adrift in his palace halls, whispers of discontentment and revolution. You silence any such rumors when you hear them. Yet, still, they fester like an infection that just never leaves. The nobles of Claude’s democracy are upset with his leadership and, as a result, they throw a coup d’etat.

It happens in a matter of hours. Fire sets the Leicester Palace ablaze, burning up the workers of the castle and eating away at anything within reach. When you catch the scent of smoke in your nose and hear the crackling flames of the blaze from the floor above, your stomach sinks. History repeats itself, and you push your way out of your bedroom chambers and to Claude’s own. 

When you arrive, however, the sight that greets you is almost ironic in nature.

Edelgard, sweet, sweet, Edelgard, stands over Claude von Reigan with her axe cutting cleanly through his neck. Beside her, one of the many nobles of Claude’s parliament stands with satisfaction, eyeing Claude’s beheaded body with something like a smirk.

You feel yourself gag, collapsing to your knees as the fumes of fire eat into your nose and lungs. Your noise is enough to attract Edelgard’s attention, however, and the woman turns to you with a cold look in her eyes.

“Teacher?” She says, recognizing you immediately. You expect to hear her voice lit up in joy like it was long ago. Instead, its filled to the brim with poisonous venom, bile eating away your courage as she approaches. “So you, too, have fallen into corruption.”

You balk at her. “I haven’t been corrupted at all!” You protest, pointing a finger at the man who stands behind her. “It’s him who has! What kind of parliament would kill their own leader?”

“One that has grown tired of his ill-minded ways,” Edelgard says in a flat tone. “I have watched over Leicester from afar and, now that his country has fallen to the point it needs my help, I have no choice but to save it and its people.”

“You’re not saving it! You’re leading it into disaster!”

“I don’t want to hear that from _you_ , teacher.”

Edelgard raises her bloody axe over your head. You stare up at her, defiant. She curls her lips, anger creasing the lines of her face. She shakes her head on you, denying you your dignity in your last moments, and then slashes her axe downwards-

* * *

-and you wake up yet again in a room of black.

At this point, you’re really growing tired of this chamber.

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to keep your promise.” Sothis hums. “Yet, you didn’t listen.”

You glare at her, at this witch of time. Exhaustion bites at you, however, and you can’t find it in yourself to argue with her.

“Ah, you really did it though. You made the wrong choice again.” Sothis laughs at you as you snarl, oozing with a sort of power that freezes you into place. “First Edelgard then Claude. And you couldn’t save either of them! What a joke!” She giggles into her hands. “Fear not, however, for I’m willing to give you another chance!”

You narrow your eyes at her. She takes your anger with a roll of her eyes, stepping off her throne to stand before you. She reaches up a hand, fingertips touching the underside of your chin, and you watch in befuddlement as her gaze softens in thought.

“Try again,” she tells you.

Then, she snaps her fingers and disappears.

* * *

You return back in time to the moment where the three house leaders stand before you. Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard greet you as if you had never left, each looking to you with sparkling eyes as they once again await your decision. 

You’re swallowed by your pain just upon looking at them, feeling the urge to break down and cry as you take in the faces of Claude and Edelgard. Both of the future leaders of Adrestia and Leicester regard you with curiosity, hope brightening their faces as you take your time to drink in this moment between you and them.

However, you know what futures await them if you choose them. You know that Edelgard’s cruel control of her country will lead to her ruin and that Claude’s own parliament will overthrow him. So, it’s with some regret that you look to Dimitri. The boy smiles a polite smile, fidgetting nervously under your gaze, and you wonder if this Dimitri can be much different from the Dimitri that hacked up Edelgard’s body long ago.

Still, you remember the way Edelgard tore her axe through Claude’s neck and realize that, perhaps, you are the butterfly needed to mend the timeline into place. If you are by Dimitri’s side, you wonder, can you possibly keep Edelgard and Claude from being killed by their own countrymen?

It’s possible. Sothis has mentioned you’d chosen wrongly before. So, maybe, you think Dimitri is the answer to your solutions. And, while you don’t know how, exactly, he would help, you do hope that his power as a leader is necessary in saving the other two.

So, with that in mind, you say:

“I choose the Blue Lions.”

* * *

Your third choice is Dimitri. 

Within an instant, Dimitri is grabbing your hands and leading you to meet his house. You don’t even have time to mourn Edelgard and Claude as you do so, all thoughts of them forcibly banished from your mind as your new house leader shows you around. 

At the training grounds of the monastery, a place so old yet so new, you meet with the members of the Blue Lions. Felix, Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, Mercedes, Ashe and Dedue greet you with vigor, inciting you into a sparring match and forcing you to vent your troubles with a spear in hand and an opponent across from you. 

However, your match is not much of a match. You’ve fought with these students before and you know their quirks by now in battle, beating even the feisty Felix into the ground. This earns you much praise from your new students. From Dimitri, however, it earns you admiration.

The boy is proud of you, that much you can tell. Even though you’ve only known him for days (weeks, months, _years_ ), you can tell by the way he stares at you that he respects you with all his heart. Dimitri is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, after all, and it’s not hard to see the way he follows you around with the need to please.

It’s cute, in some way. Unlike the Dimitri of the future, the war-torn king whose anger ruled his judgment with an iron fist, this boy is almost as harmless as a fly. He follows you around, asking for tips on his combat skills and help in his studies whenever she’s free. It gets to the point that his childhood friends - Ingrid, Felix and Sylvain - tease him mercilessly for it, never letting him forget his eagerness to spend time with you. 

You act oblivious, of course, because while you’re flattered by his attention, you know better than to incite any form of relationship between you and him. After all, you forming relationships with the house leaders of the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer is what led them to ruin in the first place. And, if you want to keep Dimitri from following in their footsteps, you have no choice but to hold Dimitri at a distance.

Doing that forever, however, wears on your patience and, apparently, wears on his as well. 

One day, when you’re on a stroll in the middle of the monastery’s rose gardens, Dimitri appears from out of nowhere to confront you on your coldness. He expresses in great anguish his fondness for you and his confusion at your mistreatment. He pours his heart out, anger clear in his voice but sadness clear in his gaze. 

It gets to the point you have to stop him mid-rant by bringing him into a hug. His argument fades away into a spluttering mess of confusion, questioning your sudden change of behavior with a frown and trembling lips.

“Forgive me,” you tell him, hugging him tight and shaking your head. “I’m sorry for distancing myself from you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He takes your apology with reluctant chilvalry. His words are polite and accepting but you can tell that the wound you’ve torn between him and yourself is great. It makes you feel guilty. You never meant to hurt him.

Then again, you never meant for him to get attached, either.

So, it’s with great reluctance that you give into the prince of Faergus’s demands. After your apology in the rose garden to him, you’ve taken it upon yourself to be less of a terrible teacher and more of a great friend to Dimitri. And, he reciprocates your efforts by opening up to you more and more, praising you when need be and encouraging you in moments of hesitance.

In some ways, you can’t help but find yourself drawn yet again to such a noble leader. And, while you’re well aware that you should keep your distance, you can’t find it in yourself to see Dimitri’s face filled with pain yet again.

So, you stick by his side, teaching him as you would Claude or Edelgard in the hopes of fostering nothing more than friendship. However, that plan quickly falters on the night of prom when, of all things, Dimitri asks you to dance with him. You accept with some hesitance, protesting your stature as his teacher. However, he dismisses such arguments with a playful smile, reminding you that, as the future leader of Faergus, there is no way the monastery will deny him his choice in a dance partner. 

In the end, you end up dancing with him, adorned in fancy attire as he takes your hand and spins you around a room full of lights.

However, such a scene is quickly plunged into chaos. Windows shatter. Chandeliers shatter. Doors and glasses shatter. There are screams. Dimitri presses to your side. You call the Sword of the Creator to you. Dimitri snatches a knife from a nearby table and backs into you.

In an instant, you watch as the ballroom you were dancing in becomes filled with unsavory faces. Masked figures begin to assault the students in attendance, doing what they can to wreck mischief as their weapons fall upon unsuspecting students. Already, you can see the other teachers doing their best to coral the other students into protected huddles, magic gleaming on their fingertips and silver weapons flashing in the moonlight.

You fight and Dimitri fights with you, the two of you working to tear down the enemy before they can tear down you. Your movements are stiff, however, in your outfit, and you find yourself slowed down tremendously as you try to counter the blows of a masked bandit. It gets to the point where your shoulder is slashed and you find your left arm left useless, paving the way to your own blows growing weaker as you try to defend yourself.

It also gets to the point, however, that you find yourself stunned as Dimitri goes berserk. The blond prince comes at your foe with wrath stitched on his face, knife slashing the man’s neck without hesitation. Blood spurts from the man’s appendange, coating your face in red, and you watch with some sense of numb horror as the man collapses before you.

Dimitri snarls at the stranger’s corpse, kicking it and bashing his foot into the dying man’s head until it cracks with a grimly satisfying noise. You watch the boy before you as he turns to you, his wrath quickly exchanged for something pained as he holds his hands on your shoulders and looks at you with an uneasy sense of hesitance.

“I had to protect you,” he tells you, hands curling into fists and all sense of chivalry lost for something cold and dark. “I had to kill him.”

You nod, unable to speak yourself at the action you have just witnessed. Some part of you is surprised because, after all, Dimitri has always been a sweet boy beforehand and has never shown this side of him to you before. Yet, you’ve also seen the him of the future, the mad king who once chopped Edelgard’s body to bits and did so without regret. He wasn’t the boy that stood before you now. Or, maybe he was. Maybe that Dimitri was still hidden underneath, waiting to be pulled from slumber by whatever events rested in store for him.

So, it is with a knowing kind of forgiveness that you accept his apology and grab his hand. He looks at you in shock - and gratitude - and squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back, relying on his offered shoulder to stumble into the care of a medic. 

When you are healed and when the battle is over, Dimitri takes you aside and brings you into the care of the monastery’s rose garden. He looks over your ruined outfit, frowning at what he sees, and then grabs your hands to catch your gaze on his own.

“Professor,” he says to you, “I want you to promise me something.”

 _Promise?_ You feel your stomach drop. _Promise what?_

You think of your promises to Edelgard and Claude, you think of your promise to protect Edelgard and to always stay by Claude’s side. You think of how you couldn’t keep those promises and draw away from Dimitri’s hands.

“I’m bad at keeping promises,” you tell him bitterly.

Dimitri shakes his head. “You’ll keep this one,” he tells her, gently, longingly. “Please, just hear me out.”

You know it’s a bad idea to do so. Yet, the look on his face is so soft, so pretty, that you find yourself giving in without a conscious thought of your actions.

Dimitri breathes out in relief. “Thank you, professor.” He smiles a beautiful smile. “Then please, if you will, promise me that you’ll never abandon me.”

You stare at him, breath shaky. “I can’t promise to be by your side forever.”

“That doesn’t matter. I know you can’t be with me all the time, after all.” Dimitri coaxes you closer. “Just promise me this, professor. Please, I just want to know that you’ll never turn against me.”

His words stun you a little. “I would _never_ turn against you,” you say to him. Familiar feelings bubble in your chest and you find you can’t keep them down. “I will always try and be on your side. I will never abandon you. Ever. That much, I can promise you.”

He nods, accepting your words with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him. He brings you into a hug, laughing greatly, before he pulls back to brace his forehead against yours. His breath traces your lips and, in that moment, you can see the red that dusts his cheeks as he faces you, proud of his closeness. 

You enjoy this moment between you and him, relishing in the happiness that floats between you two as you cling to his hands and promise him the world.

* * *

"Are you an idiot?”

Sothis clicks her tongue at you, looking almost disgusted as she appraises you.

“Making yet another promise that you can’t keep, are you?” She scowls at you and you return her expression with a snarl. 

“I don’t care what you think! I’ll do whatever I can to make him happy!”

“Just like you made Edelgard and Claude happy?”

You flinch under her ice cold words. “I can do it this time.”

“Are you certain of that?”

You stay silent. You aren’t sure, frankly.

“I’ll try.”

“Trying isn’t hard enough.”

Sothis snaps her fingers before you can say any more.

* * *

Five years comes and goes yet again and, this time, you’re the one who seeks out the leader you’ve chosen. You go to his castle, spouting your name, and the guards do a run to inform their king of your presence.

Footsteps pound on cobbled floors, two doors being thrown open to reveal Dimitri standing before you. He looks over you with that one eye of his, face slacking in surprise as he rushes forward and pulls you into a hug. There’s some spluttering from his guards in attendance - clearly, this isn’t a show that their king normally performs - and it is with some annoyance that Dimitri quickly dismisses his soldiers from his view. They oblige with eagerness, running off with confusion plastered onto their faces as they escape from their king’s field of vision.

“You’re back,” Dimitri tells you hoarsely, his voice deeper than you last remember it to be. 

“I am,” you greet him with a nervous smile, finding your memories of him clashing with the man you see before you. He is not the cold-hearted ruler you met in Edelgard’s chamber. Instead, he’s a ruler more kind as he takes you hand gently in his hand and leads you into his throne-room.

“You didn’t abandon me,” he says.

“I left you for five years.”

“But you came back,” Dimitri responds with a near-cheeky grin.

You nod. “I did.”

His grin turns wider and he leads you all the way up to his throne. He sits atop it and then settles you beside him. You marvel at how it can hold two people, finding yourself more distracted by the large amount of horizontal surface than the way you’re leaning against Dimitri like some sort of content lover.

“How have you been while I’ve been away?” You ask him. “How are Edelgard and Claude?”

His face goes from something like a kid’s to something tired and angry. If you didn’t know better, you could say he was pouting.

“They’re at war with each other,” he says. “Not only that, but I’m at war with them as well.”

It’s like you’ve suspected. Still, you fake a look of shock and flap your butterfly wings towards the winds of another fate.

“Why?”

“Both of them have lost the sight of true justice,” he tells you. “Edelgard has become a dictator who refuses to listen to her own people. Meanwhile, Claude has allowed his country to fall into ruin, allowing for hedonistic diseases to fester like the plague in his own nation.”

You’re tempted to argue with him, to say that he’s not seeing the full picture and correct him on his point of view. Then, you realize how many questions that would bring up that you don’t want to answer and opt for another route instead.

“Can’t you help them?” You ask. “If they’re suffering, can’t you reach out and help them?”

Dimitri curls his lips. “Those fools wouldn’t listen to me if I tried. They’re too stuck in their own world to listen to reason.”

“But have you tried?”

He gives you a glare, sighing through his nose. “They won’t listen to me,” he tells you. “They think me mad.”

You give him a dry look. “Why?”

“They’re too conceited. They think that just because I keep my people under my control I’m someone to look down upon.” He snorts. “Just because I use fear to keep my people in line doesn’t mean I do a good job. My country is prospering. Theirs is losing itself to the grip of a dictator and a soiled leader.”

You don’t really understand and you want to argue with him - _Edelgard and Claude are doing their best for their country, why can’t you understand that?_ \- but you, little butterfly, have chosen another route and so you cannot dare to complain. 

Instead, you say: “We can try to change them.”

Dimitri gives you a look of disgust.

“Why do you care for those fools?” There’s a note of pain in his voice as he adds: “Shouldn’t you be on my side instead?”

You lean against him, sighing at his stubbornness. “I _am_ on your side,” you remind him. “I promised to never abandon you, remember?”

He leans on you as you lean on him. “That you did,” his head lands on your shoulder, blond locks tickling your cheek. “I’m sorry teacher, forgive me. I’m not used to being questioned.”

Fingers run through his hair as you observe him. He closes his eye at your touch, nestling closer as he his breathing turns to something calm and rested. You smile at him, glad to be able to be with him in a moment like this, and rest your head against his.

“I accept your apology.” You whisper, lips brushing his hair. “I’ll never let you go, after all.”

* * *

From that day onwards, you accompany Dimitri wherever he goes. As king, he has royal duties to perform. Of those duties, most consist of paperwork and talking to those within his control. Often, he requires you to accompany him on his journey, taking you along with him to see his flourishing kingdom for yourself.

There, you are greeted by the people under his control. Men and women and children alike come to see you, curious about the stranger who has caught their king’s eye. You meet their expectant gazes with a kind yet nervous smile and the people fawn over you immediately. It’s a nice feeling. In some ways, it reminds you of your time with Edelgard. However, unlike with Edelgard, you suspect the people are being genuine of their appreciation towards you, handing you flowers with faces full of joy as you accept such polite offerings.

“The people love you,” you note to Dimitri as you make your way through a town full of winter snow.

“Of course they do,” he says. “I may be the Mad King to others but, to Faergus, I am nothing more than their leader. I have done my best to see this country prosper at the least cost possible. Unlike Edelgard and Claude, I know how to make sure my citizens are satisfied with the leader they see before them.”

You hum in appreciation, thinking his words the truth. Dimitri’s own citizens love him whereas Edelgard’s and Claude’s own loathe them. It’s a strange contrast. Back in the days where Faergus was at war with Adrestia and Leicester, with Edelgard and Claude, rumors were abound that Dimitri was mistreating his people and leading them astray. He was a murderer, a rapist and a serial killer who killed for the mere pleasure of it. Many cruel tales had reached your ears of Dimitri’s exploits, many of which pained your heart and made you wonder what had happened to such a kind and loving boy.

Now, however, you see the power of those rumors made useless in the face of reality. Dimitri’s own men hail him with love and affection, greeting him like they would a comrade as they discuss their latest exploits. Dimitri nods his head in appreciation, furthering their talk with jargon you have no hope of understanding, before he takes note of your idle gaze and dismisses himself to accompany you.

As he does so, however, a soldier approaches you. He appears like an ordinary soldier, draped in the metal armor of war and carrying a dagger on his person, but you watch with surprise as he bows before Dimitri and then whispers words into Dimitri’s ears. Dimitri’s expression changes to something flat. He curls his lips, nodding his head at the man, and the soldier carries himself on his way without a second thought, pulling his dagger from his sheath as he does so.

“What’s going on?” You ask him.

“A traitor has been found in my kingdom,” he tells you lightly. “I’ve just sent that man to get rid of him.”

“A traitor?”

“Someone who no doubt is working for Leicester,” Dimitri scowls. “And I don’t tolerate fools who declare themselves my enemy so openly.”

He leaves you on that remark, escorting you to a nearby shop and distracting you with a lovely meal. Still, later that night, you think of that man and the words he whispered into Dimitri’s ears. You think of Dimitri’s change in expression, thinking it cold and menacing: almost heartless. It scares you, if you’re a little honest. After all, you still have dreams of him standing over Edelgard’s corpse, his weapon stained red while her body lay in pieces before him.

In time, however, you become even more horrified to realize just what, exactly, Dimitri has done to his country. 

You don’t know when you realize it or how you realize it but, eventually, you come to tell that the love the citizens of Faergus have for their king is something like that of blind faith.

His citizens admire him, yes, but they do so out of reverence and awe. In his kingdom, Dimitri is treated like a god. His people worship and thank him for their prosperity. They appreciate him and his words, clinging to him like a child clings to their mother. They do not love him because it is in their hearts to do so. No, rather, they love him because they have been taught to do so.

You learn this from Ingrid, from the arrogant girl who used to look down at others in her youth and who now looks upon you with a gaze tired and broken. She addresses you with little resemblance of her old self, looking old and tired as she reveals to you the secrets of Dimitri’s regime.

Dimitri doesn’t just rule through blind admiration. He also rules through fear.

All throughout his kingdom are spies. These spies are hidden in the nooks and crannies of every society, wearing the faces of ordinary people and living among the commoners with masks of amiability. However, these spies are the right-hand men of Dimitri. They search for any traces of offense - any trace whatsoever - and eliminate any threat to His Highness’s kingdom. They do so in secret, of course, therefore earning themselves the very telling nickname of the “Secret Police”.

And, it’s with these Secret Police that Dimitri finds his downfall. Paranoia wracks streets full of people kind and warm to you. Everyone turns on each other, unable to speak any offense against their king in the presence of another without fearing the worst. Men who speak too carelessly are killed overnight. Women who gossip too much find their tongues cut off and their bodies hung on a stake to be made an example of. Even children are not free from scrutiny, the most rebellious of kids finding their own parents murdered before them and then drafted off into military academy to be sent off to war.

It disgusts you, to know what Dimitri’s country has actually become. You confront Dimitri about this, about these horrifying things, and he only gives you a cold stare.

“I’m doing things my way.” He tells you. “And I’m winning because of it.”

You know he’s right. You’ve heard the reports. You’ve heard how Adrestia’s armies have faltered and how Leicester’s own have been pushed back. Still, you cannot condone his behavior. 

"Even so, I don't want you to-!"

“Tell me,” he barks, “who told you of this?”

You don’t say Ingrid’s name. You are afraid for her. You don’t want her to go.

Yet, the next day after, when you refuse to give Dimitri a name, you find her body hung from a noose in the square just outside the Faergus Palace, her body dangling like a carrot from a string as Dimitri comes to your side.

“I do not tolerate those who try to take you away from me,” he says. “Nor do I tolerate those who have lost their will to obey me.”

He says it like a threat but you can tell he would never threaten your life. No, he won’t threaten to take your life, but he will take the lives of those who make you turn against him. 

When he goes, you pray for Ingrid. You pray for her and mourn and grieve and offer your apologies in a courtyard full of booing and rotten tomatoes painted across the woman’s body. 

From then on, you try to stay by Dimitri’s side, to change him, to make him see the error of his ways. Instead, he offers you luxuries you can’t deny, offering you pleasures of any kind possible to distract you from your words. And, while you would like to think yourself above such pleasantries, you find yourself baited into them. Food, jewelry, clothes, weapons...anything you desire is given to you without question. So long as you don’t question Dimitri further, of course.

However, the kingdom that Dimitri has built for himself comes crumbling down when his reign of prosperity comes to an end. A harsh winter overtakes Faergus, taking the lives of many soldiers and leading to many struggles that result in the loss of important goods to enemy armies. Food becomes scarce and luxuries even scarcer. Rations are eventually put into place and, in the end, the people become dissatisfied.

Angry at their own king for failing to lift him out of poverty and seeing him in his mortality, his people do the unthinkable: they turn to Leicester to help. You only know this because the rumor reaches your ears while you are at Dimitri’s side, only to be confirmed a week later when Leicester’s army storms into the palace without any opposition from Dimitri’s own discontent army.

Claude greets you and Dimitri in the throne room, his bow already nocked and anger in his eyes as he acts before any of you can think to move. He shoots an arrow, hitting Dimitri directly in the chest, and you watch with horror as blood spurts from Dimitri’s chest, mouth and nose. Still, the man you know isn’t so weak and he stumbles off his throne to raise his axe in Claude’s direction.

The man made from gold shoots again, this time piercing Dimitri straight through his one good eye. Dimitri screams, blood spurting from his pierced socket, before he stumbles over and bleeds like a dying man on the floor before you.

Claude shoots yet again. And again. And again. He shoots until Dimitri’s body is riddled with arrows, angered disgust written on his face.

When he is satisfied, he turns his gaze to you and growls. “Teach.”

“Claude,” you greet him in turn, shaking violently as he approaches. Goddess, aren’t you pathetic? You can’t even call your sword to defend yourself as Claude nocks yet another arrow, pointing it directly at you.

“I’ll make this quick,” he promises you. “I have no intention of dirtying my hands any more.”

He says that. He says that and yet you feel like screaming at him. You want to take him by the shoulders, to shake him and shriek at him and sob on him and let him shoot you. You want him to end you, to end _this,_ to end whatever little hope you have left in your chest and end it cleanly.

Claude obliges your unsaid wishes with a nod, pulling back his arrow and letting it loose.

You watch it fly towards you, watch it head straight for your neck and-

* * *

You wake up again in that chamber of black. Always here. Always back.

“My. You failed again. I guess your choice was wrong this time too.”

And always, that little witch of a girl watches over you, spewing her poisonous words and granting you hope time and time again as you watch your students forever fall to their deaths before you.

“Failed? I _failed?_ Since when I have I _failed_ when I never had a chance to _win_ in the first place?”

You spit and snarl at her, the cowardly witch who pushes her duties onto you, who forces you to watch your those closest to you die and has the audacity to call your choice “wrong” time and time again.

“You haven’t failed, per say,” Sothis props her chin on a hand and looks at you with cold eyes. “You just haven’t found a way to save them yet.”

Tears reach your eyes, hot and angry, and you can’t stop yourself from crying in front of this cruel deity as you fall before her. You slam your hands into the ground, snarling and screaming and spitting and shrieking. All the while, Sothis watches over you, saying nothing as you tear your nails into the ground and come up with nothing but air.

Then, as if growing tired of your antics, Sothis leaves her perch to step down her flight of stairs and stand before you. She reaches a hand out, touching the top of your head and rustling it like she might a child.

“Make a choice,” says the witch of time.

You look up at her, angry and yet unable to fight her any longer. “But what choice is there left to make?” You ask her, voice filled to the brim with grief.

She looks at you, smiling that sinister smile of hers as she answers:

“Your own.”

She snaps her fingers before you can even question her.

* * *

Again. 

You’re standing in front of Edelgard and Claude and Dimitri again.

They look at you with the eyes of innocence, oblivious to the way you feel like breaking down in front of them. All you want to do is to hug them tight, to bring them to your chest and bury your heads in their forms and apologize for everything that’s ever happened to them.

“Make a choice,” Rhea tells you.

You stare between your options, knowing where they all lead and being unable to choose such a fate again.

“ _But what choice is there left to make?_ ” Echoes your voice in your mind.

Sothis’s own words follows. “ _Your own._ ”

This is the moment where everything begins. The moment where you determine what tragedy happens and which one does not. Pick one house, and you’ll lead its ruler to ruin. Pick another, and that leader will also fall to their demise.

It gets you thinking, however. Do you have to choose a house? Do you really have to choose between the three of them? Can you? Or can you choose not to?”

You tilt your head up. “I don’t choose any house.” You say to Rhea, firmness in your voice as if declare your decision final. “I choose _all_ of them.”

Rhea’s eyes widen and then narrow. The three house leaders look at you with puzzlement, exchanging looks between themselves and then furrowing their eyebrows.

“You have to choose.” Rhea tells you.

“I will not. I will remain neutral.”

“You cannot take the Church lightly.”

“I won’t.” You glare at her and then, realizing the aura of danger surrounding her, appease her with: “By doing this, I can be more effective in my choice. I don’t know these three. I don’t know anything about their houses. But, by working with all three of them, I can ascertain which house I best fit in.”

Rhea glowers at you, clearly unhappy with your words, yet it seems he is just satisfied with your explanation. She nods, giving her clear agreement, and faces the house leaders to confirm your decision.

Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard nod in return, showing their acceptance of such a choice with the maturity you would expect of them.

“We would be glad to have you,” Edelgard says. 

“I will do anything in my power to make you feel welcome.” Claude grins.

“We will do our best to accommodate you,” adds Dimitri.

Something like hope rushes in your chest. You try not to let it get to you, yet it lingers in your chest regardless. So, with a smile on your face, you accept their gestures with gratitude.

* * *

After having accepted your plea to neutrality, all three house leaders introduce you to their houses. You accept each house with knowing, feigning ignorance of each member as you are introduced to them

Everyone welcomes you with open arms, eager to take your hand in guidance and seeking support from you whenever they must. The house leaders, especially, look up to you, always seeking your guidance and always getting into squabbles for doing so.

In time, you manage to get the three house leaders to act as a group of friends. Of course, they were always friends, you knew that, but never to the extent as they are now. Even as they follow you like a group of ducklings, eager to catch your attention whenever they can, they still talk amongst themselves and tease each other like any other group of friends might. It even goes so far that the three start sharing personal secrets about themselves in your presence, revealing things about themselves they’ve only ever shared to you before in previous timelines.

In some ways, however, you think that helps. Having Claude and Dimitri and Edelgard confess their darkest secrets to each other gets them to open up in a way you’ve never seen before. Whereas, previously, each house leader that you taught was so enraptured in you that they split from their bond with the others, now they were working as a team. You simply could not go one day without finding the three together, each of them doing what they could to spend time in each other’s care and to do their best to foster relationships they hadn’t held previously.

It makes you proud, to see these three house leaders getting along like old friends. You are glad that your choice has made them bond with one another. You feel like this is something that they needed in your previous timelines. Unlike the other timelines, the three before you can now understand each other without even speaking a word. 

It’s nice, in some way. You like seeing the three of them together, like seeing the way they joke and tease and laugh with each other in the rose gardens on a sunny day. It makes you feel at ease. It makes you feel hopeful.

So, maybe, that’s why, one day, you take the three of them into a secluded classroom, shut the door tightly behind you, and reveal things you shouldn’t know to the three of them.

“I’m a time traveller,” you tell them, mustering as much gravity as you can in your voice to get them to listen to you, “and in all the futures I’ve been to, you will kill each other.”

They stare at you with wide eyes and nervous laughter.

“What kind of nonsense are you speaking, teach?” Claude asks you.

“The truth. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” You sigh at their disbelieving expressions. “You don’t have to believe me, you just have to listen.”

Dimitri gives a nod, always the polite one of the trio who can never bother to turn down someone’s request. Edelgard follows in his stead, the hesitance in her eyes telling you that she is only listening because she respects you. Claude frowns, but you can tell he is doing so because he can sense the sincerity in your voice.

“In the future, you three will all be at war.” You look at Edelgard and Dimitri. “You two will become dictators who treat your people cruelly in order to bring them to prosperity.” You look at Claude. “And you will face a council of people who don’t respect you, undermining your authority and treating you like a nuisance.”

They look amongst themselves, lips pursing.

You continue. “Because of your treatment of your people, and because of your sense of justice, you will all die by the hands of each other. I have seen it myself,” you shudder at the recollection of Edelgard’s mutilated corpse, of Claude’s beheaded body, and of Dimitri’s bloodied corpse. “I do not wish for that fate to befall any of you again.”

There’s a silence. Then, Claude asks: “So, if you’re so certain this will happen, what do you suggest we do?”

“Work together. Don’t let your own sense of justice interfere with the lives of your people and the way you run your country. Don’t go to war with each other. Understand one another. Look to the others and see what their nation is going through and how to help yourselves and the others.”

“You speak as if you won’t be there to witness this.” Dimitri says.

“I won’t. In every timeline I’ve been in, I am sent five years into the future for reasons even I have been unable to explain. However, I am certain of this: in my absence, so long as you work together, you will survive and _thrive._ ”

“If you’re gone, how can we expect to know the right path to follow?”

You smile at Edelgard as she speaks. “I’m telling you this now to avoid such a tragic fate on your end. I want you to be aware of the future so that when the time comes and I disappear, you will know what to do.”

“I see…” Claude rubs his chin. He looks at Dimitri and Edelgard and then at you. “I believe you, teach. You wouldn’t lie to us. I promise not to let things go too far.”

“As do I,” Edelgard adds. “I will do what I must to stop the people of Fodlan from suffering.”

“Same here,” Dimitri agrees. “It is a knight’s duty - and that of a king’s - to ensure peace rules across the continent he sits in.”

You bow before them, earning a splutter from all three of them as you hang your head. “I thank you all for listening to me and accepting my plea.” You tell them, never one to forget your gratitude. “And when the time comes, please welcome me with open arms.”

The three of them nod at you, determination set in their gazes.

Satisfied, you let your world fall into darkness.

* * *

“You made your choice.” Sothis says.

“I have,” you tell her, tilting your head up as she appraises you yet again.

“I’m glad.” She smiles and, to your surprise, it’s a genuine smile. “It seems your choice won’t be wrong this time, now won’t it?”

“Of course.”

The witch of time nods her head. “Well then, I have nothing more to say. You’ve done as you pleased and found your answer. For that, I will let you see the results.”

She raises her hand yet again, fingers poised, but it’s too late:

You snap your fingers.

* * *

Five years into the future you arrive yet again.

This time, you land in the confines of the Garreg Mach Monastery. The sight of it surprises you: in all of your previous timelines, the monastery has become a place of rubble and forgotten memories. Yet, here, it thrives. Within its walls, students draped in blue and red and yellow wander, talking to each other and laughing all the while. A few spare you glances, whispering amongst themselves at your presence, before they giggle and hurry on with their lives.

When three figures come to greet you, you find yourself unable to find yourself surprised. They stare at you, smiling, and then open up their arms to you. You smile back, tears running down your face, and run into their embrace.

Like the temporal butterfly you are, you flap your wings and witness the consequences of your choice. The winds of time surround you, ethereal in nature, and it’s in their grasp that you find happiness at long last.

**Author's Note:**

> 4th route DLC confirmed amirite?
> 
> In all seriousness though, I got this idea like a week ago and I honestly didn't expect it to take this long to write but I'm glad I did. The idea basically started from this summary (literally the exact summary of this fanfic) and spun from there.
> 
> Part of this project was to give me something to work on so I don't burn out on writing for Doom Desire. Then...Then I got too invested and started prioritizing this instead. So, uh, yeah.
> 
> Also, idk if I've ever mentioned this before but I've started making Fe:3H AMVS (which really helps boost my writing motivation for some strange reason idk why but it does ~~which is why I create them ofc~~ ). The one I was listening to on repeat while writing this was [this AMV here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftN5nHfvx0o). I really love this song and it's honestly so gorgeous and I feel like it fits the theme of this story as well as "Masters of War" by Bob Dylan which is, as you can guess, this fanfic's source of inspiration for its title.


End file.
